 | Elvira |  |
SCENE I.
MENDOZA, RAMIREZ.RAMIREZ.
Condemn'd to die, you say?
MENDOZA.
This very moment
The fatal preparations are begun;
The gloomy pomp that shews us death more dreadful!
Surrounding guards, whose silence terrifies
Beyond the din of their conflicting arms;
The bloody theatre, with cypress hung—
Alas! the color that ten thousand mourners
Must shortly wear—And then the victim comes!
'Tis horrible to thought!
RAMIREZ.
Who has in charge
To see this murder done?
MENDOZA.
On me, my friend,
On me the cruel duty is impos'd
By our relentless Master.
RAMIREZ.
Is the hour
Appointed, and the place?
MENDOZA.
Both, both are fix'd:
And when the midnight-bell with mournful call
Tolls up the cloister'd Fathers of Saint Francis,
Who have been nam'd on his departing soul
58
Has struck my ear, Don Pedro is brought forth.
RAMIREZ.
And whither then?
MENDOZA.
To that sequester'd spot,
Wall'd high around, where oft the noblest blood
Of Portugal has flow'd. 'Tis there the Prince
Must lose his head.
RAMIREZ.
Mine shall be risk'd, by heaven!
Nor mine alone: a thousand more shall fall,
Ere that inhuman sentence takes effect.
A deed like this will stain our hated annals
Thro all descending time. Let us prevent it.
The people, still tumultuous, like their sea,
May soon be blown into a second storm.
It shall be try'd.
MENDOZA.
You cast yourself away,
And serve not him your friendship aims to save.
The palace-gates are strongly barr'd; at each
A triple guard is planted: and the King
Commands, on pain of death, that none approach him.
RAMIREZ.
But sure these orders are not for the Queen:
And she, a woman, by those tender feelings,
That are her sex's glory, must be sway'd—
She moves this way, and with her, fair Almeyda.
| Elvira | |